The Price of Discovery
by Powersocke Prime
Summary: Swiper the Fox, sworn nemesis of Dora the Explorer, is fed up with her ruining his schemes. In response, he devised an intricate plan to steal a priceless artifact from Dora's mother. But when this artifact gets reclaimed, unforeseeable consequences ensue and grim events take place that Swiper had not accounted for.


I understand that, due to my chosen profession and my grand history of iniquitous deeds, the credibility of my narrative might be severely compromised. It is entirely plausible to infer that I may be writing this letter to account for my crimes or to seek absolution in the eyes of those that had tracked my movements with such meticulousness time and time again. However, even if trust in me is scarce, I must tell my story. For it may be the last tale I'll ever tell.

Most, if not all, know me by the name of Swiper. Or, more accurately, Swiper the Fox. Notwithstanding the fact that I never revealed my true identity, this title has been bestowed unto me by the many victims whom I stole various possessions of. But no other person was as enticing to harm as Dora.

Not only did I intend to ruin her life more often than not. When I first tried to claim what's hers as mine, I thought that she'd make an easy enough target. After all, how much defense does a lass this young of age have? In this assumption, though, I couldn't have made a greater mistake.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, Dora always halted my ambitions before I even got close. And although I had succeeded a few times in the past, that damnable girl's luck would never run out. All items I ever took from her resurfaced sooner or later. And whenever she resumed her quest after my defeat, I was mad with anger.

Not solely at her apparent talent at foiling my plans every single time. But also at my own appalling ineptitude to best her. Over the years, the failures mounted. At length, Dora had become my nemesis. So I devised ever more intricate schemes to bereave her of what she deemed most valuable. But alas, all I've conceived turned out to be useless.

That was until the fateful day I found out about a most peculiar item among her mother's possessions.

Of course it had never been Dora alone who opposed me. Quite the contrary. In fact, I presume her victories only took place because of the continuous presence of her allies. Far and wide they were strewn about the country. But the most persistent was an incredibly dim and annoying simian by the name of Boots who, just like me, followed her every step. And even though the namesake his actual name is derived from hinted at a lower than average intelligence, he had always a part in what made me perpetually lose against that tiny female.

But on that day, none would be able to defeat me I was certain. For I would not steal from either Dora, Boots or any of her other friends. I would procure the goods from her mother's home directly. And it just so happened that this maternal figure had an item on her shelves of utmost importance. An item the prophetic import of which I, to my chagrin, did not foresee. But how could I?

As it so happened, Dora's mother used to be quite the explorer herself. Dora knew this, but ancient tomes and old parchments I stumbled upon while searching her house for the item in question revealed a dark spot in her past. A spot she was intent of keeping a secret, no doubt.

There had been voyages to forgotten temples and antediluvian ruins by which she had acquired hidden knowledge. Before long, I gazed at a sheet of paper iterating upon the item I sought. By description it was a jetty black, triangular soapstone of hitherto unknown origins. It was embellished with runes I was neither able to read nor recognize. Likewise, I had no idea as to its purpose and as such, I was tragically unaware of what it was capable of.

All I knew was that Dora's mother attributed to it a prodigious value. And it was this farcical belief of inherent wealth which drew me to it, for I hoped to have found something that was capable of inflicting irreversible ruin upon her family.

Perhaps it was an obsession that had developed while I always looked for new ways to hamper Dora's efforts. Had I known of the calamity that would unfold I would have let the matter rest years ago. Alas, I didn't. And so, I got my paws on that vile piece of rock.

All the while I never took into account that, apart from all the animals that had sworn allegiance with Dora, she had two much more sophisticated helpers at her disposal. Those two being the avidly named Backpack and Map. Two animate objects, probably due to magic of some capacity, sporting a set of rather uncanny abilities. The consequences of which nobody ever took into consideration.

From the texts I shuffled through to find more information on that soapstone, I learned more about their origins and the true extent of their powers. These two artifacts, apparently stemming from a time several æons ago, were bequeathed to Dora by her mother to aid in her endeavors. And while these ventures were usually harmless in nature, the Map and the Backpack had a fatal flaw within their inner workings.

Map was capable of leading Dora to any place she intended to visit. All she had to do was ask him what paths were to be taken and what obstacles were to be conquered. After a little song and dance, Map would then, in his infallible servitude and without fail, make his geographical omniscience available to Dora.

In quite a similar fashion, Backpack seemed to always have contained within him that one crucial object Dora needed to advance, no matter the circumstances.

Two most useful abilities. However, that day, these same abilities got out of hand.

Because of their very nature, these two always held all the answers and all the keys. No matter what. Why this is so frightening will become clear very soon.

After I had obtained that rune-engraved rock, I fled into the nearby woods in order to not get caught again. But just close enough to be able to eavesdrop on any conversations taking place. I needed to be well informed, after all.

Eventually, Dora was called for and her mother gave her the task that I had expected. To track me down and retrieve the artifact that I had taken.

My first mistake was to forget that Map obviously knew where I was. The fear of failure sent my mind reeling as it dawned on me. I couldn't let that happen.

I shall bore you not with how long I tried to evade capture. Because in the end, Dora and I met and I was apprehended. I had lost again. I was on the verge to give up permanently but I could not resist the tyrannizing urge to follow her. Just one last effort to foil her plans. And yet, the worst was still to transpire.

For when I overheard the initial conversation prior to Dora chasing me down like the crazy girl she was, I heard her mother say that, upon retrieval, Dora was to return _immediately_.

But I witnessed her inquisitive nature getting the best of her. So of course, she asked herself where that thing originated from. And thenceforth, the terrible events would start to unfold.

Dora defied her elders and consulted Map to find out what place stood in connexion with the stone. In that instant, Map's præternatural might displayed itself. For he knew the way. The way to the Ancient Temple Dora was not intended to ever behold. Her mother withheld all this knowledge for a reason. Precisely because the benign gift that was Map was capable of leading her there. If Dora had not held the soapstone it would have been mildly disturbing at best. But as it was, things should take a turn for the worse.

As always, Map had pointed out the winding paths to her destination. And as always, she had to overcome two obstacles in order to reach the desired location. Only this time, everything was a bit off.

Dora usually visited all kinds of queer and funny places. Talking trees, versicolor hills, rivers and lakes were nothing out of the ordinary. This time, however, Map spoke this:

"In order for Dora to reach the Ancient Temple, she first needs to pass the Decaying Forest. Then she has to pass through the Great Gate of the Old Ones. Then, Dora has reached the Ancient Temple where she can use the stone!"

And with an increasingly maddening intonation, he repeated the names of the different locations over and over again, as was customary. "Forest. Gate. Ancient Temple! Forest. Gate. Ancient Temple!".

When his verbal assault ceased, Dora and Boots, who was of course along for the ride, made their way to the forest. And I followed, as I had always done. And while I did, I had a strange sense of destiny in my gut that I could not shrug off.

Soon, we arrived in the Decaying Forest. It was an uncanny place. A worn path wound itself betwixt an array of infested and decomposing trees. And sometimes, I got the impression of some life forms concealing their presences within the hollowed-out barks of the crooked vegetation that was omnipresent there.

After a while, Dora and her little ape companion reached a few wildly grown branches, hardened vines and roots which prevented passage out of the ruinous thicket. The grim atmosphere was accentuated by a bleak sky that darkened the further we went.

So Dora, slightly unsettled, turned to Backpack who, unsurprisingly, had a giant pair of scissors handy for cutting down the wooden overgrowth to clear the way. Together with Boots, she did. And as the vines and roots and branches fell, I could observe an increasingly tenebrous horizon, its farthest point of reference a jetty black, completely unlike anything hitherto witnessed. With growing terror did I follow her into that dank, unknown place. Had I only turned back. But the irresistible urge to trail her was stronger than my alarmed self cared to admit.

When the path was clear, Dora and her entourage advanced deeper into this foreign territory. But the peculiar vacancy in conjunction with the howling winds that plagued the area had worn her out to such an extent as to prevent her from commencing her usual singing. Instead, she trod in silence with an eerie wariness that went against her own conjecture. As if some entity, apart from myself, lurked stalking in the seemingly animate shadows. This shift of countenance and demeanour also unsettled me to invoke in me a palpable fear that I could not describe.

Before long, Dora and Boots reached the Gate with an expression of uncertainty in their faces. Did she truly wish to continue? It mattered not, for she was determined to finish what she had began. Thusly, both of them, now considerably puzzled, looked for a way to open aforementioned gate. The doors would not budge if force was applied by either pulling or pushing. And curiously, Backpack also seemed to lack any sort of key, notwithstanding the absence of a keyhole. Then Boots asked: "What if we just tell it to open up?"

"Right!", Dora exclaimed in acquiescence. She yelled "Open up! Open up!" multitudinously. But to no avail. And then she remembered the weird stone she carried. Dora produced it from one of her pockets and held it near the gate. Astonishingly, the artifact's embellishments started to radiate in a sinister lustre. A few seconds passed and the cyclopean entryway of basalt, sporting engravings similar to those of the stone, began to glow as well. The heavy doors opened with a deep droning noise that reverberated within my bones. A wave of nausea overcame me as a result of my vibrating skeleton.

And so, the grand aperture shone uninvitingly through its gaping mound amidst an ever hungrier abyss. Dora's heretofore established uncertainty turned into fright as she gazed up into the sky, finding it empty. No stars, no moon, no other celestial bodies. Only blackness loomed quizzaciously over her head.

Dora and Boots walked slower when the Ancient Temple came into view. And in his eyes I could see Boots' composure crumble to dust. Without warning, he proclaimed that journey doomed and ran off into the distance, never to be seen or heard from again. Dora was highly discombobulated and, albeit briefly, asked herself if it was a good idea to keep going.

With determination did she cry out for her simian friend but he answered not. Before she proceeded to the brooding structure, Dora shed a tear and prayed for the ape to find the way back.

When she finally stood at the precipice of the disconcerting fane she inexplicably halted her movements. Something stirred within the child. Doubts and anxiety were made manifest as she drew closer to the monstrous building.

A gargantuan structure, its age not to be guessed at, constructed of anthracite bricks with windowless walls and an entrance gate of ominous design. It bore the same markings the soapstone was engraved with. But something about the place dissuaded her rigorously.

And then I witnessed something I had never witnessed before. Map and Backpack would both try and _persuade_ her into entering the temple against her better judgement!

To her oncoming demise, Dora complied. Not without questioning her own safety, but she obeyed nonetheless.

The doors moaned evilly when they opened, revealing the cold, shadowy inside. A large hall, composed of the very same materials that constituted the outside of the palace, shewed itself to us. In its center there lay a black path lined with otherworldly pillars that depicted some nameless being in salient detail. Startling murals carved from the solid stone in the tiniest fractals invoked a picturesque image of an adversary that should not be.

Hesitatingly, Dora advanced deeper into the fane while I followed, the entrance doors slamming shut behind us. Just a few moments later, both Backpack and Map freed themselves from her grasp, scurrying off into the impenetrable darkness of this unsanctified place, leaving Dora in utter helplessness.

Without her tools she would be lost. Finally, I thought, I have reached my goal! Dora is defeated. Now I was free to roam the lands without her ever intervening again. Even so, my fate seemed tied to hers for I could not let go. Inexplicably I found it impossible to leave, to stop observing her for one last chance of theft.

Dora was thrust into despair at the loss of all of her friends. But the only way was forward. Through the encroaching shades and vile mists of this temple to a forbidden deity. Determined to get her two friends back, she pressed on.

After a few more steps, something wholly alien came into view at the far end of the room. A towering structure, perhaps stretching two hundred meters upward. A monolith of unprecedented likeness and of a colour that defied our vision. Its utter blackness was so intensely oppressive that I failed to ascertain what it's true geometrical shape was. The material it was composed of was prehensile, solid night, giving the illusion of it being two-dimensional in our three-dimensional plane of existence. This mirage of a structure only had one triangular indentation that refracted light, a certain stone making a perfect fit no doubt.

Telling this last bit troubles me greatly. For I could have avoided so much. Could have prevented the unspeakable things seep seethingly into our world, bubbling from eternal voids.

And lo, Dora held the queer soapstone up high whereunto it flew into the surrounding, stale air, ever closer to the shapeless appearing monolith. With a click, the triangle and the structure connected, prompting a change in our immediate area.

The heretofore clean air got besmeared with fœtid malodorousness while all else grew unbearably cold. And lastly, the monolith opened up, a horrible nothingness creeping from it, plunging everything into devouring vapours.

Dora and I were flung into a spacious abyss. Without light or signs of life. And out of the ethereal emptiness materialized itself a formless entity. Its true shape could not be understood but it was indubitably the thing from the carvings in the pillars. A hideous abomination, crushing my soul with its detestable visage.

The very last thing I witnessed before all was black was how that being lifted a finger or a talon or a claw or a tentacle or an arm, I could not tell with certainty, and touched Dora's forehead.

And when the two connected, the familiar light of life faded from her eyes. Her body began to dissolve and melt in a mind bending way, leaving only her clothes to float about the endless, yawning, cosmic indifference. Over time, even they dissolved, leaving no trace of Dora having ever existed in the first place.

I am here now, too. With no way out of this cold place.

I formulated this epistle on the off chance it might get expectorated into the world I came from. Maybe someone who finds this is capable of rescuing me.

Dora is gone now. Our fates no longer tied together. But still, in her death lies my very own demise. For even beyond the grave does her restless spirit extend its fingers to clutch at my heart and keep it hostage. I am trapped, much like her.

Only now is it that I realize that my life as Swiper the Fox was more punishment than deliberate choice. It has been designed that way.

Only now do I realize that this bygone life was purgatory. And that my present residence is hell.


End file.
